The Call Home: Not a Test of Loyalty |
Diaspora Jews are not traitors for staying where they are. History shows they move when the world shifts; and Israel must be ready when that moment comes.
Hearing the Call in a Changing World
Haggai Segal’s recent argument in Makor Rishon; labeling American Jews who have not made Aliyah as “traitors” struck a nerve across the Jewish world. His frustration is understandable: Israel is the national home of the Jewish people, and the desire to see more Jews return is rooted in love, not hostility. But framing Diaspora Jews as disloyal misses the deeper historical pattern, the spiritual dimension of Jewish return, and the lived reality of communities abroad.
This is not a rebuttal to Segal. It is another way of seeing the moment we are in; one grounded in Jewish history, in the themes I explored in A Call to Readiness and Before the Storm, and in the recognition that while Jews are indeed being called home, that call must be heard, not forced.
Across the Jewish world, something is shifting. You can feel it in conversations, in synagogues, on campuses, and in community meetings. There is a growing sense that the world is entering a period of volatility that will test Jewish communities everywhere. This is the “call to readiness.” It is not a call to panic. It is not a call to flee. It is a call to awareness, a spiritual and historical awakening.
A Return That Unfolds in Its Own Time
The Bible speaks of such moments: I will bring you back from the lands to which I have scattered you – (Jeremiah 29:14). You will return to the Lord your God… and He will gather you from all the nations – (Deuteronomy 30:2–3). These verses are not ultimatums. They are promises. They describe a process, not a command; a return that unfolds in its own time, shaped by history, circumstance, and the quiet awakening of a people.
Aliyah has always been a deeply personal decision. To demand that millions uproot their lives on a fixed ideological schedule is to misunderstand human nature, and Jewish destiny. Jews do not move because they are scolded. They move because the world shifts beneath them.
The Rhythm of Jewish History
Jewish history does not unfold in straight lines; it moves in cycles. A community settles in a new land, contributes, thrives, and becomes woven into the fabric of the society around it. Success brings confidence, and confidence brings a sense of permanence. But beneath the surface, the host society begins to shift; sometimes slowly, sometimes imperceptibly. Economic anxieties rise. Political factions harden. Cultural tensions sharpen. And when a nation becomes unsettled, it looks for explanations. It looks for culprits. It looks for symbols. Jews, visible and successful, often become the easiest answer.
The change rarely arrives all at once. It begins with rhetoric, with murmurs, with the sense that something intangible has shifted. Soon the pressures follow; the social cues, the quiet constraints, the subtle narrowing of what once felt open and secure. And then, almost imperceptibly, the window that seemed wide open begins to close. This pattern has repeated from Spain to Germany, from Iraq to Ethiopia, from Russia to France. Jews do not leave at the height of comfort. They leave when the environment transforms; when the familiar becomes uncertain, when the future turns opaque, when the warning signs can no longer be dismissed as temporary or exceptional. And when that moment of clarity arrives, they move quickly. They always have.
The German‑Jewish Illusion: It Won’t Happen Here
Perhaps the most painful example is Germany in the 1930s. German Jews were among the most integrated, patriotic, and successful Jewish communities in history. Many believed; sincerely, that their achievements, their contributions, and their loyalty would shield them. They were convinced that the storm gathering around them was a passing cloud.
Rabbi Leo Baeck, the last leader of German Jewry before the Holocaust, wrote that Jews often “cling to normalcy even as the world around them becomes unrecognizable.” Philosopher Hannah Arendt later observed that German Jews “mistook social acceptance for security.” They believed it would not affect them; until it did. This is not to compare eras. It is to understand patterns. Jewish history teaches humility. It teaches vigilance. It teaches that the ground can shift quickly, even in places once considered the safest in the world.
American Jews Are Not Traitors; They Are Living the Jewish Story
Segal’s frustration stems from a real place: the belief that Jews belong in Israel, and that the Diaspora is inherently fragile. Many Israelis share that view. But branding American Jews as disloyal misunderstands their reality. American Jews are not indifferent. They are not disconnected. They are not cowards. They are living a version of the Jewish story that has existed for millennia; building communities, institutions, synagogues, schools, and cultural life in the lands where they reside. This is not betrayal. It is continuity. And many are paying a price for their Jewishness. Jewish students on American campuses face hostility that would have been unthinkable a decade ago. Jewish professionals navigate environments where expressing support for Israel can cost them socially or professionally.
Jewish families are reassessing their safety in cities once considered the most tolerant in the world. These are not the actions of a community that has abandoned its people. These are the actions of a community under pressure; one that may soon face decisions it never imagined. But American Jews, at least not yet, are not moving because of fear. Their lives are not collapsing. Their communities are not dissolving. Their options are not gone. And that “not yet” matters, because it means that if American Jews choose to come, they will not be coming out of fear. They will be coming out of purpose.
Runing Out of Options; and Running Toward Purpose
Across the world, Jews are moving because the walls around them are tightening. In France, in South Africa, in parts of Latin America and Europe, the options are narrowing. The choices are shrinking. The future feels less open than it once did. For many, Aliyah is not an ideological leap; it is the last door still open. But American Jews stand at a different threshold. They are not being pushed out. They are not being cornered. They are not running from anything. And that is precisely why their potential journey carries such weight. They will be coming because something inside them is stirring; a quiet restlessness, a sense that history is shifting and that they are meant to be part of shaping what comes next. They will be coming not because they are running from danger, but because they are running toward meaning.
Tony Gelbart, Co‑Founder of Nefesh B’Nefesh, captured this truth with rare clarity when he said; People are not running away from anything. They are running to something. They are running to Israel. It is their home. For Jews in many countries, that “something” is safety. For American Jews, it may be destiny.
Israel’s Posture: The Door Is Open
As former President Reuven Rivlin often reminded the world, “Israel is the national home of the Jewish people — all Jews, wherever they may live.” That spirit has guided Israel’s Ministry of Aliyah and Integration for decades. Former Minister Pnina Tamano‑Shata expressed it simply: “Every Jew who comes home strengthens the State of Israel.” Organizations such as Nefesh B’Nefesh work alongside the ministry to make that journey smoother for those who choose it, not as pressure, but as an open door. Israel is not demanding that Jews come home but is preparing for the day they will.
A New Lech Lecha for Our Time
There are moments in Jewish history when the call to move forward does not come from crisis, but from conscience. The voice that stirs us is not the roar of danger but the whisper of destiny. The journey is not an escape, but an embrace. Lech Lecha was not a command born of fear. It was an invitation to become something more; to step into a story larger than one’s own life. That same invitation echoes now, quietly but unmistakably, across the Jewish world. It is not a demand, not a judgment, but a possibility.
For many Jews around the globe, the world is tightening. Their choices are narrowing. Their future feels uncertain. But American Jews stand at a different threshold. They are not being pushed out. They are not being cornered. They are not running from anything. And that is precisely why their potential journey carries such weight. If they come, it will not be because they must. It will be because they choose to. They feel called to build, to contribute to repair; to help shape the next chapter of the Jewish story with their own hands. This is the deepest meaning of return, not flight, but purpose. Not fear, but vision. Not pressure, but possibility. The door is open. The moment is stirring. The future is calling. And like every generation before us, we will each decide how to answer.
Dedicated to those who open the door — Nefesh B’Nefesh, the Jewish Agency, all who have already answered the call home, and all who one day will